The Sultan's Harem Bride

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Authors: Annie West
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future. Until your grandmother and I corresponded again after...Imran.’ Jacqui swallowed over the obstruction in her throat and forced herself to continue. ‘She was so enthusiastic, I realised the project was too big for the article I’d planned. It needed a book. So here I am.’
    Jacqui didn’t add that her work defined her. Relationships had never succeeded for her. She’d never belonged anywhere as she had in journalism. Burying herself in reporting, building a life around her professional goals was all she had.
    Moonlight silvered the strong lines of his face as he surveyed her.
    Did he believe her or still think this was a conspiracy to uncover dirt on his sister? Had she bared her secret shame for nothing? Was he going to kick her out?
    ‘Thank you for sharing the truth.’ His voice was rich and slightly rough, like crushed velvet rubbing on bare skin. ‘I suspect you haven’t shared that with many.’
    None. But she refused to tell him that.
    Jacqui was an intensely private person, having learned to rely only on herself from the day her parents had split. It had been difficult, discovering at ten that neither of your parents loved you enough to want you full time. That you came a poor second to their new families. That you didn’t belong except as an unpaid babysitter. But it had made her strong. She gave thanks now for that strength.
    ‘I realise it was difficult for you.’
    She nodded, her throat still closed.
    ‘I’ll continue to monitor your progress’ He paused and she felt his scrutiny like a touch. ‘But you’ve put my mind at rest for now.’
    For now? What hoops did she have to jump through to win this man’s approval?
    Jacqui felt wrung out. She wasn’t sure she had the stamina to go another round with the Sultan, no matter how desperate she was.
    Abruptly he stood. ‘Come, it’s late. I’ve kept you from your bed.’
    In the gloom he extended his arm and for an insane moment Jacqui thought he meant to accompany her to bed. A jagged slash of heat scorched her, resolving into an eddying pool of liquid warmth deep in her abdomen.
    ‘In my country a handshake is a sign of trust.’
    Reluctant despite the unlooked-for compliment, Jacqui reached out and took his hand. It was just as she remembered, firm, warm and strong.
    Instead of the expected handshake he pulled her to her feet till they stood toe-to-toe, close enough for her to feel his breath on her forehead. The heat in her belly flared and sparked and a new kind of tension stirred.
    There it was again, that searing stare that spoke of things far more intimate than news stories or remembered anguish. Breathlessly Jacqui told herself it was a trick of the moonlight that made his eyes glitter.
    Yet instinct made her pull free of his hold. Not because of what she thought she saw there but because of the answering hunger growing inside, banishing the last glacial chill of memory.
    She’d never known such an overwhelming response to a man. It made her want to run and hide.
    ‘Good night.’ She kept her head up, resisting the impulse to rub away the imprint of his touch. It was too unsettling but she knew better than to reveal that.
    ‘Come, I’ll see you to your door.’
    ‘There’s no need to go out of your way.’ Her voice sounded scratchy and breathless and she cursed this sudden rush of hormones.
    ‘It’s not out of my way at all. Haven’t you realised yet that you’re staying in my private wing?’
    Even in the darkness his slow smile packed a punch that made her reel.
    ‘So if you need me in the night I’m not far away.’

CHAPTER FIVE
    A SIM STARED ACROSS his desk at the woman before him, her head bent over her laptop.
    Afternoon sun caught amber and russet tints in the hair she’d scraped back from her face. Idly he imagined it loose like it had been that first night, catching the light in a nimbus of gold and autumn hues.
    He frowned. Blonde or brunette, or even tawny chestnut, no woman distracted him from his

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